I’m not one to go on and on about my positive attributes, as you surely are aware of by this time. I just don’t toot my own horn. Sure, I’ve got some “good” things going for me, like my high degree of intelligence, my charm, and my sense of humor. But I’m too modest to actually say that. Outloud. So, I won’t. (insert cheesy grin here.) Instead, today I’d like to balance out the karma in my relationship with Zohrhubby (who has, by all accounts, taken his fair share of virtual tongue lashings in these prose of late, unbeknownst to him) by telling you about one of his greatest strengths, which, while sometimes annoying, serves a very important purpose in the grande scheme of things. (I like using an “e” on the end of “grand” in the same way that some non-British people insert a “u” in words like color and behavior, because it makes me feel more important in some abstract way.)
If I were a single parent, things would be a mess. Not a literal mess…because you all know me well enough to know that I’d only have 5 beds, two toilets and a couch in my house, and my kids would only have 4 outfits apiece. But figuratively, it would be a mess. Let me explain:
I hate calling people to report a problem or get information about how to solve such problem. Several months ago we tried to watch Avatar on Blu-ray on a fairly new player in our den. An error message came up that said that we had to upgrade our operating software or something or another. I was a little disappointed that we couldn’t watch the movie, but otherwise, I was not concerned. It was Saturday, we had other things that needed doing anyway. Zohrhubby, on the other hand, spent 45 minutes searching for the operating manual, 20 minutes reading through it to try to determine the problem, and when that didn’t pan out, called the help line and tried to get someone to talk him through what needed to be done.
I was annoyed by all of this, because I wanted him to clean out the storage shed and the attic. He spent about 2 hours total on this, all the while talking loudly on the phone and pacing back and forth between the player and the computer, while I rolled my eyes and breathed heavily at a higher volume than is required under normal circumstances. Eventually, he did fix it. And so our fairly new Blu-ray player was rescued from its state of utter uselessness.
For the past few days, our cable has been “sticky”. That’s the only way I can describe it. Sometimes the picture gets “pixellated” and sticks. After a few seconds, it straightens out, but then a little while later it goes all sticky again. This irks me, I will not lie. But I have taken the same position with this problem as I have with all of the others: I bitch about it when it happens, and then I go on with my life and forget about it. Zohrhubby, on the other hand, must immediately take action. I’m actually sort of surprised that he allowed this to go on for more than 24 hours prior to initiating his first call to the cable company. They had someone come out immediately, and Zohrhubby walked him all over the house, showing him all the tv’s, explaining the problem, and discussing all the issues with him. I supposed, when the guy left, that it was fixed, though I avoided all conversations on the subject, because it was pointless to me. That evening, I was in the bed watching American Idol (Omigod, did you SEE Casey’s reaction to the Judges using their SAVE! I thought he was going to stroke right the hell out!) and Zohrhubby got on the phone with the cable company again. Apparently the signal in the den, where he was SUPPOSED to be, was sticky again. I paused AI, and waited, impatiently, for him to leave the room. He stood in the bedroom, staring at the cable modem and telling the person on the other line about the shotty internet service on top of the sticky tv signal, for all of about 15 minutes. I kept motioning for him to get out. And he kept holding up one finger. There was absolutely no reason for him to stand in the bedroom. He was on his cell phone. He wasn’t DOING anything in the bedroom, but felt compelled to STARE at the cable modem while talking on the phone as though he were having a face-to-face with the cable representative, right there, in my bedroom, while American Idol sat paused and neglected. Eventually, he walked out. The next day, another cable guy came out, and Zohrhubby walked him all over the house, showed him all of the tvs again, and discussed the problem with him. I tried to keep the kids from taking the cable guy’s tools out of his tool bag whenever he would set it down, and tried to keep Little A from asking him all sorts of questions about himself. Finally, that guy left too. Turns out, ZH tells me, there is a “node” on our street. (I don’t know what the hell a node is, but I bet it’s also responsible for all the dead squirrels my neighbor and I have seen lately in the neighborhood. We’ve been keeping our eye out for this Node, but as of yet it has eluded us.) (Holla, Alison!)
Anywhateverthepoint, I’ve told you this whole long dumb story only to illustrate this one thing: If it were left up to me, only one of our televisions would work, and probably even then only on Sundays, and that particular tv would be hooked up to the Blu-ray player that is running old software and therefore we could not watch movies… When a printer stopped printing I might have to chunk it out the door… When the stove gave out I’d just run out and buy a new one. Give me a broken toilet and I will fix it. But if I have to call someone for assistance, it’s just not going to happen. It comes naturally to ZH. He likes it.
So, that’s just one example of an area of my life that, albeit sometimes annoying, Zohrhubby completes me. I hope this made up for my bitching last week. If not, let’s just move on. 🙂